


Midnight Calls

by tearyangel



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Internal Conflict, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearyangel/pseuds/tearyangel
Summary: As midnight rolls around, George calls Dream, like he does every night. However, Dream's mind is plagued with guilt upon realising he's beginning to slowly develop feelings for the other.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 206





	Midnight Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Hi (:
> 
> I got bored and wrote this at midnight. It's unedited, and a little messy. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, if you happen to spot any mistakes, or have any criticism for me, let me know!

A gentle breeze whisks through the dim room, startling the dust particles which float through the air. The cool wind is enough to disturb a sleeping cat, who wakes up promptly and stretches. A faint glow emits from a computer screen which sits idly in the corner, accompanied by Dream who hums down the phone as he swivels slowly in his chair. He had become accustomed to this; phone calls with his best friend at around midnight, every night. The two had started this routine a few weeks earlier, deciding between themselves to call one another each night, just to provide the other with some company. The two began to really like it, and it became routine; talking until dark skies seeped into brighter ones. Typically consisting of playing random games they found online, listening to music together and conversing casually until they eventually dozed off to sleep. This night is no different. 

“I can’t believe it’s still raining.” Dream states, scoffing as he listens to the heavy drops of water from the other end of the line. He could hear puddles forming on the ground with the heavy rain, and he almost feels sorry for the boy. His friend had been complaining for a while now about the weather, and how lucky Dream is to live in Florida, where it’s bright and sunny. He had spent a portion of his phone calls teasing the poor boy about it, which only caused endless playful bickering between the two. 

“It’s ridiculous, it’s been almost a whole week.” George groans, frustration evident in his tone. The sound of the poor UK weather soon grows quiet after a faint click. Dream guesses he must’ve closed his window after holding his phone out for him to hear the rain.

He can’t help but quietly chuckle at the Brit’s irritation, causing the boy to mutter a short, “shut up.”

Dream shrugs defensively, standing up from his chair after putting his phone on speaker. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

He wanders over to the other side of his room, George’s voice droning on about how unfair the weather is while he pulls his own window closed. Delicate ripples of cool air greets him as the window seals shut but they quickly disperse as he walks back to his desk. As expected, the boy is still aimlessly complaining about the UK.

Dream perks up at this, a smirk on his face the other couldn’t see.

“If it’s that bad, you should just come to Florida.” He suggests, laughing lightly. “You could live with me... and I’d read you bedtime stories every night.”

Of course, he was only joking, but a small part of Dream warms at the thought. He’d be lying if he said he’d never imagined it before; George visiting him. He’d be able to finally see him in real life. Though, the idea also makes him a little nervous. He wonders what the other would be like if they were to ever meet, but figures it’s unlikely to happen anyway. He’s been doing a lot of this lately- thinking about the Brit and imagining different scenarios including him, though he pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind and forces himself to focus.

“Oh my god, Dream.” George says, defeatedly, though he’s used to hearing the other’s playful flirting. He dismisses Dream, and continues talking about the rain for a while more. Dream mindlessly grabs his phone and continues walking, acknowledging George’s rant and the conversation steers toward a new topic.

“So, what time were you planning on streaming tomorrow?” Dream asks, noticing the time as he settles himself down on his bed. He quickly nestles himself between the covers, already being in some comfy clothes to sleep in.

A rustling sound is heard from the other end as he waits for a response. After a few seconds, he hears more movement before George finally replies. “Whenever I wake up, I guess.”

Dream mumbles a few words of approval, before yawning loudly, and he giggles upon hearing his friend mimic him. He rests his phone on the duvet beside him, listening to George’s voice as it grows tired. It’s not long before Dream finds himself surrounded in a dark abyss, and a gentle sleep devours him.

Hours pass, and the room is soon illuminated by early sunlight, causing Dream to wake. He stretches as he waits for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, and notices George is no longer on the phone. He lazily picks the device up, skimming through the hundreds of notifications he’s used to seeing. His bare feet pad lightly against the floor as he nears his desk after seeing a certain notification on his screen.

_Georgenotfound is live!_

He couldn’t stop himself from checking in. Hesitant fingers graze over his keyboard as he tabs into the stream, and finds himself smiling upon noticing George had his face cam on, which he previously mentioned he probably wouldn’t bother. He’s glad he did. Dream tunes in for a while, listening to the boy mess around on his server while reading the donations. His eyes don’t leave George’s face, and his eyes flicker down to observe as many details as he could. The dainty bags that were beginning to form under his eyes which nobody would notice, 

_except him._

He secretly admires the way George’s eyes light up at certain donations, smile lines forming next to his mouth as he giggles at the funnier ones. The way his pale hands clutch his face as he dies in game, the way his soft, pink lips part as he concentrates on something, or the way he drags those same lips in between his teeth as he bites on them in frustration after dying. He could imagine those hands touching his, those eyes looking into his, _those lips on his._

He suddenly feels hot, a warmth crawling over his entire body as he gulps. Dream has to shake these thoughts from his head, wondering when this all really started; him paying attention to George’s expressions like this, observing the details about him nobody else would. Dream would be disgusted at himself, had this been the first time he studied the way George reacts to certain things, but it wasn’t. Instead, trickles of guilt seep into his skull like snakes, nibbling at his brain with each thought he has about the other.

A sigh escapes his lips, knowing he can’t control his own mind lately. He types a few things on his keyboard, sending his message with a quick tap. Dream waits for it to go through, meanwhile, he continues to watch his friend with a flushed face.

_Dream donated $30_

_How’s the rain today? :p_

It doesn’t take long for George’s eyes to flit to his other monitor, reading the donation again. He fails to suppress a laugh, his eyes closing briefly. “Take a guess.”

Dream tuts aloud, a smile akin to one on his friend’s plastered onto his face as he donates again, this time the message simply being, _‘idiot.’_

Three hours pass quickly, and soon George is waving goodbye to his stream the same way he usually does. In the time his friend had been streaming, Dream had showered and ate the food, which he also ordered during the stream. The afternoon had already begun to seep into evening but he paid no mind to this. Usually, by now, they would sit in a discord call and hop onto a game with some other friends. Dream didn’t feel up to this tonight; the thoughts about George becoming all too much for him today.

The harsh grip he has on his hair is enough to cause mild pain, but Dream ignores it and he chokes back faint cries. He hated thinking of his best friend the way he does- it hurts him, knowing he’ll never feel the same, nor be able to even admit these feelings toward the other. He’d never do anything to ruin their friendship, George means too much to him, but these thoughts get stronger each time he sees the boy, and it’s painful to have to stay silent in case he ends up saying something he’ll regret. There have been many times, where Dream has almost said something too forward, but he knew it’d only scare George away. 

He sits here for a while, the cold tiles of his bathroom floor comforting him as he spirals into broken thoughts and headaches. Eventually, he regains his posture, wiping his reddened face with the back of his hand as he stares at the wall. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but he’s beginning to grow tired, from both thinking too much, and a lack of sleep.

The noise of his phone chiming sounds from his room, and he forces himself up to find it.

‘Guess what time it is.’ a message from George wrote. His heart stutters as his contact suddenly flashes on his screen to signify a call.

With shaky fingers, he accepts the call after seconds of debating. He does this every night; hesitates picking up, but he’s come to the conclusion he likes these midnight calls quite a bit, even if it does cause his heart to pick up its pace.

“You’ll never guess what.” George says abruptly, pulling Dream from his thoughts momentarily.

He hums in question, curiosity rising. The excitement in his friend’s voice makes his lips twitch up into a smile, and he waits in silence to know what he finds so thrilling.

“It’s stopped raining!”

Dream laughs, breaking out into cheers and wincing as his friend does the same except much louder. “Finally!”

There’s rustling on the other end, followed by a moment of silence. “See?” George says, his voice faint. He couldn’t help but laugh at the boy who he guessed must’ve stuck his phone out his window to prove the rain had stopped. 

The two instantly began conversing the same way they always did, inappropriate jokes, playful flirting and light bickering. They hopped into a game of Minecraft, instantly attacking one another while arguing over something as they laugh through their mics. 

Dream punches his friend’s character, who then crouches while looking down. He giggles at the sad noises George’s makes, cooing at him as he fake cries. Dream crouches in return, showering the other in pixelated flowers of each kind in apology. The boy accepts the gesture, deciding to forgive him this time.

“How’d you get that hole in your hoodie?” Dream asks after a while of silence, soaking up each other’s company.

George hums, “what do you mean? You can’t even see me.”

“You had a facecam on earlier.” The Floridan reminds him, thinking back to the stream. 

“Oh. Well I didn’t realise.”

Momentarily, Dream feels his heart sink. Should he have avoided asking? Does he seem creepy for analysing those details about George that he didn’t even notice himself? He bites his tongue, wondering what the other boy is thinking.

He shakes his head, leaning back in his chair to stretch and settle his heartbeat. “You should wear mine instead.” He states, opting to continue the conversation by flirting like he always does.

George laughs, being used to the playful tone in his friend’s voice. “Ship it to me.” 

“Okay, bet.” Dream shrugs, as if to play the careless act, even if his face is beginning to burn. He doesn’t know how serious the other is being, but he decides there wouldn’t be any harm in actually doing it. He could easily play it off a joke if George decides he was joking, and didn’t actually want his hoodie.

They continue talking until early hours of the morning roll by, and soon it’s four am. George had fallen asleep an hour prior, but stays on the phone to Dream who is busy packaging one of his favourite hoodies. He’s trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake the other who’s peacefully napping, faint snores emitting from his end of the line. 

George had put his camera on minutes before he fell asleep, and Dream could see a section of his face from the weird angle the Brit had his phone at. He can’t help catching secret glances at his friend as he fidgets in his slumber. Dream finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the sleeping boy, admiring his features which were hard to spot in the dark.

He sits atop of his bed, listening to his own even breaths for a moment, his eyes scanning his own room. Dim street lights outside illuminate his room, casting darkened shadows to appear in every corner. He could hear the quiet hum of his air conditioner, and the muffled chirps of some sort of cicada outside his window somewhere.

Sighing, he grabs a pen from his bedside dresser. He writes George’s address, having already memorised it from sending so many care packages filled with his own merchandise and other random gifts he thought the other would like. He writes a short note, _‘this doesn’t have holes in (:’_ and lies it on top of the clothing. Placing the box on his dresser, he shuffles in between the covers of his bed and eventually drifts into a slumber of his own after propping his phone on the sheet beside him.

“Dream?” The voice breaks the boy from his daze, and blinks himself back to reality. “Are you there?” 

“Yeah, I’m here, what’s up?” Dream says, watching a green circle appear around his discord picture. He glances at the time on his screen, sighing quietly; eleven am.

He had woken up without George again this morning, but he managed to get a lot done. By ten o’clock, he had showered, eaten and sent his package off to the Brit containing his hoodie. George had been busy this morning, too, and the two hadn’t yet spoken to one another.

Sapnap grunts, repeating himself. “The coding? It’s confusing me, can you check it?”

Dream sits up in his chair upon being sent a folder by his friend. He clicks on it, letting his eyes scan the words lazily. For a while, he doesn’t see anything wrong, so he reads the whole thing slower, examining each code.

After a few short minutes, he clicks over it a few times, correcting small errors before sending it back. He slumps back in his chair while he waits for Sapnap to try it out. They were trying to fix the coding so Sapnap could release an overdue video he hadn’t recorded yet, but after spending so long typing out the codes, the boy just kept growing frustrated when it didn’t work as planned. Dream had spent the last hour on call with his friend as they tried out a few different ideas, before editing lines of code and trying something new.

“It worked!” He celebrates loudly, causing Dream to join in after turning his friend down a little.“Thank you!”

“You just missed out a few things, I’ll show you later.” He tells Sapnap, trying to convince him that he didn’t do a bad job like he had whined about earlier.

Sapnap thanks him again, relief evident in his voice, and he drags George into the call. The three joke around for a while, and hop into a fresh server with the mod. They practised on it first, just to double check things would run smoothly. After some time, they begin recording with the mod. Hours fly by full of laughter, frustration and lots of in-game deaths, and Dream is soon growing drained as they finally finish the recording.

With a newfound desperate need to rest, he closes discord, and pushes himself away from his desk after saying a few goodbye’s to the other two. As Dream collapses onto his mattress, his phone buzzes from his pocket. He tosses around, awkwardly pulling the device from being pressed between his bed and his back pocket.

_‘So no call? ):’_ George’s message read, causing Dream’s face to light up a little. He immediately presses the button, and his screen is soon covered with his friend’s face as he leans close to the camera. 

Dream smiles at him, though the other can’t see him. “Hi.” He greets simply, his voice weary from the long hours of recording. 

“Hi.” George repeats, laughing as he pulls his head back from the camera. Dream can see him clearer now, and it makes his stomach flutter at the sight. He looks really good, and Dream can’t seem to take his eyes away from him. 

George suddenly looks to the left, and groans loudly with his head tilted back. 

Dream frowns at his friend. “What?”

“It’s raining again.”

He breaks out into laughter, his heart hammering in his chest when George joins in.

Dream studies his friend’s face for a while, as usual. Eventually, the camera points at his ceiling, George’s face no longer in view. Though he can’t put his thoughts at ease; he wants to make George smile as he teases him, to admire him in person. He wants to trace his fingers over George’s skin, to feel him close. He wants to feel George’s lips on his own, with no particular rhythm. He wants to hold him, to watch goosebumps scatter George’s skin as he brushes his hands over the other’s.

“You’re pretty.” He croaks out, his body burning with the confession. Dream is used to playfully flirting with George, the two do it all the time. But they’re usually followed by laughter, or an eye roll- not _silence._

Dream’s heart thumps heavily in his chest, so loud he can hear it and worries for a moment that George might hear it, too. His breaths come out shallow, uneven, pained. He’s scared, he didn’t mean to say it so seriously. His words were wrapped in thick air, weighing them down and creating real meaning. The inflection he held in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the boy on the other end of the line who remains quiet. Meanwhile Dream is panicking, wondering if he could possibly say anything to make it better.

He couldn’t laugh, or play it off, it had been too long since the heavy words were spoken. He couldn’t continue a string of flirty remarks to hide the truthfulness in the first one either, it would sound too forced. Dream actually wasn’t sure if he could say anything, his voice would give out.

A growing pit blossomed in his stomach, stirring around uncomfortably and making him feel even worse. He recognises the feeling as anxiety, though it feels worse than that; he feels like he’s going to throw up. He silently begs for George to say something, anything would be better than this agonising silence. This odd tension makes his ears ring, and his muscles ache from sitting so still. These days feel like weeks, which drag out into months; but he knows he’s just being dramatic. Maybe he fell asleep, or left to get something. Maybe he didn’t hear it. 

Just as these ideas come into Dream’s head, they leave. George switches his camera off and he’s left staring at a blank screen. He definitely heard it. He also figures he must’ve muted himself, too, as he can no longer hear George's broken fan he had in his room. Dream had complained about that fan so many times during these midnight phone calls, it would stutter for a while, before fading into an irritating hum.

He wants to sob, but his eyelids are far too heavy. After his long train of thoughts about how he should fix this; he drifts off.

The couple days after that goes by incredibly slowly, Dream not daring to message George until he figures out what to say, and George being equally as silent online. In fact, he hadn’t spoken a word on social media. Dream wasn’t used to not talking to his best friend, and it broke him. These days feel like weeks, which drag out into months; but he knows he’s just being dramatic. Many nights, rather than being on call with George- he’d sit on the cool tiles of his bathroom floor and sob quietly into his hands. He had become so angry at himself for ruining something he enjoyed so much. Those midnight calls. Days flew by, no new tweets, no messages, nothing from George.

He had spent these last few days trying to find something to distract himself from the guilt he felt. Logging into his Minecraft server and making small appearances on his friends’ streams. Cooking food, and burning it. Playing with Patches, and hanging out with Sapnap for a few hours each day. His friend could sense something was off, but Dream ignored his worried looks and tried to reassure him that he was fine.

Dream had tweeted a few times, to not worry any of his friends or fans. Mainly ‘thank you’ tweets and a photo of his cat, as he had nothing more creative to write. He had this permanent headache, which would occasionally move to his chest, and then back to the centre of his skull where it would thump loudly in his own brain. 

When he wakes up, his head begins throbbing at the harsh sunlight which peeks through his bathroom window. It feels as if he were hungover, but this is just the aftermath of regret and guilt which eats at him like rats.

His phone buzzes a few hundred times against the bathroom floor, and he reaches for it, his body aching with every movement from sleeping on the ground. He exhales deeply as he begins scrolling through his many notifications. He yawns heavily as he opens the Twitter app, and sees a particular tweet which catches him off guard. 

Dream freezes, his trembling thumb hovering over the tweet. He hesitantly presses on it, expanding the tweet which sends his brain into overdrive. His eyes gloss over and his throat grows dry, and he gasps. But how could he just post that after days of nothing? Was he over it? Does this mean he forgive his stupid words? Does this mean everything is fixed?

_‘Thank you, @Dream (:’_

Attached to George’s tweet is an image that ignites a sort of flame within Dream’s chest. He finds himself smiling at the photo, a warmth surging through his body. It was of the Brit, wearing the hoodie Dream had sent him almost a week ago- and it causes heat to travel up his neck. He replies to the tweet, but half regrets it upon sending it.

_‘It looks good on you.’_

For a moment, guilt seeps into Dream’s brain, and he finds himself about to delete the reply when George likes it. Almost immediately, a call comes through from the boy. He rushes to accept it, and smiles when George pops into view. _Still wearing his hoodie._

“Uh, hi.” Dream says with his heart in his throat. The sight of his friend in his own clothing becoming all do much for him. He feels hot, confused and a little dizzy.

He smiles into his camera, pulling his sleeves over his hands. “It’s comfy.

“Yeah?” Dream asks, carefully observing George while still being hesitant with his words. He doesn’t want to ruin anything again, he’ll need to be cautious this time.

George nods, rubbing his hand over the soft material. “It smells good, too.”

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat at this, and he reminds himself to think about his next words before speaking. “Yeah?” he just repeats.

“How does it look?” George asks, backing away from the camera to show off the hoodie. Dreams eyes scan over his body, his face growing warm at its baggy fit on the boy. He peels his eyes from the sight; knowing he’ll only say something he’ll regret.

Dream forces a laugh. “You look...good.” He says, voice dropping into a whisper as his eyes return to his friend. “It’s huge on you.”

George beams at his words. “I like when you compliment me.” He states, walking closer to his phone. 

“Really?” Dream questions. He didn’t seem to like it when he called George pretty. “Well, it’s true.”

“Yeah, but you make me nervous sometimes.” The Brit admits, weaving out of frame for a second.

Dream hums in question just as Patches enters his room, nudging his legs with her head. He watches her curiously for a while before gently picking her up and placing her on his lap. He mindlessly strokes her soft fur as she purrs under his touch.

“I don’t know.” George spills out, regret lacing his voice.

Dream frowns, “I make you _nervous?”_ The other only nods in response. “And what does that mean, exactly?” 

“I’m not going to say it, Dream.”

“Then say something else.” He suggests, watching as George’s pink, soft lips settle into a small smile. Dream watches as he sighs, finding the right words to say.

He leans forward, whispering, “I _really_ like your hoodie.” 

“I _really_ like you wearing it.” Dream shoots back, mimicking George’s hushed tone. Silence fills the air, and the Brit parts his lips, waiting to hear more. After the short silence, he realizes he needs to get it off his chest, he can’t keep acting like he feels nothing toward the other. These emotions he feels so strongly for the other have been weighing him down for weeks, leaving him in a constant state of overthinking followed by anxiety. He needs to speak, to say something, to confess. Finally, he blurts out, “I really like...you?” 

His statement sounded more like a question, but it instantly makes him feel so much lighter. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He doesn’t have to act like he’s calm when in reality he’s a nervous wreck when George calls him each night. He doesn’t have to worry about the wrong words slipping out, or scaring away the other boy. He doesn't have to think each sentence through before he says them, because now he knows…

He knows the truth which has caused so many sleepless nights. It’s freeing, and refreshing.

George laughs in response, smiling wider as another wave of silence washes over the two. For a moment, Dream wonders if he got it wrong, and George wasn’t actually hinting at his feelings. Maybe George only said these things to mess with him, or to embarrass him. 

He finally shrugs at the camera, casually biting at his lips. “It’s a really nice sweater.”

Just as Dream groans, frustrated with George’s lack of feelings, a message appears on his screen. Curious, he clicks on it. 

_‘I like u too i guess.’_

Dream whines, unsatisfied with this response. How could he admit his feelings for George if he can’t tell him in person he feels the same? Is this all a joke? Does he even reciprocate his feelings at all? 

“You’re an idiot.” Dream says playfully, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest. “Just say it.” 

“I like…” George trails off, grinning cruelly. “Our midnight calls?” 


End file.
